Pressure Point (Point #2) (9 page)

I gather Zoe closer against my body. She hasn’t spoken, but I can feel my dress shirt dampening with the salty liquid from her tears. That’s enough for the time being. Knowing that she’s well enough to cry against my shoulder like she did when she didn’t get into Northwestern, knowing that she’s breathing and not fighting for her life on some hospital gurney is good enough for now.

“Thank you,” I say hoarsely to Stella, more of my permanently affixed armor slipping away with the tremble in my voice. Red-rimmed eyes meet mine, the gorgeous clear blue shiny with unshed tears.

“Whatever she needs. Whatever. I’m here.” Her voice is a lot more resolute than mine. I relish in her strength for a moment. I’m more than thankful that she appeared when my sister needed her most. I’m eternally grateful that Stella appeared when
I
needed her most. She refuses to let my gaze go, a silent question between us: are you okay?

I want to tell her that she’s the support propping me up. I want to say that if I hadn’t seen her running toward my sister at full speed with a determined look fixed on her face, I might have done something stupid, like run into the school to see what the fuck happened. Instead, she distracted me, reminding me that looking after Zoe was the top priority. She grounded me while simultaneously setting me on the right path. Effortless, and without a word, Stella brought out the best in me. A guardian angel watching over my sister and me.

Gus smoothly parks the car in the attached garage of my house. Stella climbs out of the car first and rushes around to where my driver has already opened the door. I shift my sister into my arms, awkwardly stepping out of the car in an attempt not to jostle her.

“We’re home,” I tell her softly. “Do you want something to eat? How about tea? A cupcake?” Zoe shakes her head feebly.

“I want to lie down,” she whispers.

That’s not what I want. She needs to talk, tell me what happened. Every last detail of what went down in that school needs to come out. Now.

“That’s good, honey, rest will make you feel better. I’ll get Mom to bring soup from the restaurant and some biscotti. That would be good, won’t it?” Stella’s sweet voice interrupts my impatient musing when she reaches out to stroke my sister’s cheek with the back of her hand and smile tenderly at her. I’m transfixed by the smile. Having Stella here is soothing the torrent of anxiety tearing through me.

A small hand falls on my shoulder when I cross into Zoe’s room with my sister still clinging to me like she’s a small child again.

“Let me help Zoe get changed,” Stella murmurs.

I nod my head jerkily, the resolve I’m clutching to beginning to unravel. Once Zoe’s firmly on her feet, I shut the door behind me.

God, I could have lost her today.

I grip the back of my neck with one hand. Losing my sister is incomprehensible. I’m good at my job, I throw a decent football, contribute to various charitable organizations, but that’s not the way that I define my character. Who I am reflects on the character of my sister. By my mother’s will, I became her guardian. Since the day Mom died, though, I’ve carried the weight of Zoe’s life on my shoulders. She’s not my daughter by blood, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel like her father.

“Okay.”

I whirl around, surprised because I didn’t hear the bedroom door click open. It takes all the well-practiced restraint I have not to let my jaw drop open. Stella took off the tight skirt and blouse she wore this morning and replaced them with Zoe’s clothes. Little does Stella know, she’s wearing one of my old football shirts. Damn if it doesn’t look better on her than it ever did me.

Fuck.

If I’m so concerned with my sister, why do I notice Stella’s wearing cotton shorts, high-cut, and revealing firm, tanned legs? With a frustrated scowl, I step toward the bedroom, forcing Stella to shrink back.

Now I’m not only a horny bastard, I’m an asshole, too. Whatever. Zoe’s my first priority.

My sister is curled on her side in the middle of the queen-size bed we bought when she turned sixteen. After she had finished graduate school, she rented a place closer to Clarkes Elementary. I wonder when she’ll want to go back there.

Without hesitation, I strip off my jacket, tie, and dress shirt. My shoes follow and then I position myself next to my sister, not paying attention to where Stella stands uncertainly near the door. I collect my sister against my chest again, feeling her shudder against me.

“He wanted to die. He wanted to take the kids with him. He wanted to take me with him,” she mumbles. I push her face forward into the crook of my neck, torn between wanting to hear what happened and not wanting to hear because I’m certain the details will haunt me.

A small whimper turns into deeper, body-wracking sobs. I shut my eyes, letting out a helpless sigh.

The weight of the bed dips then that same gentle touch I felt earlier is back as a tender hand on my cheek. Is Stella soothing me? No one except my mother has ever touched me with this much care.

I open my eyes to find Stella on the other side of my sister’s trembling body. Her hand falls from the gentle reassurance on my cheek to drift away, settling around my sister’s waist.

“Breathe, Zo. You’re safe and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

We
. The word has a nice ring to it. Stella and I, a unit. Somewhere in my mind that fits. What’s left of my restraint drops away, and I use my top hand to wrap around Stella’s waist and haul both my girls tight against me.

I don’t bother to analyze the repercussions of imagining Stella as my girl and holding her this way. Holding them both this way is the only thing that releases the knot of fear clogging my throat.

Stella

“Did this really happen to me?” Violet stares at the sparkling stone in amazement, her lunch easily forgotten.

Leaning back in the bistro chair, I cock my head to the side. “Why wouldn’t it happen to you? Max has been in love with you from the moment you sat down next to him at Red Bar. Whenever you’re in the room, the guy can’t keep his eyes off you. He once told me, verbatim, ‘I will spend the rest of my life with Violet Harper.’ And don’t you blush, I know he’s said that to you at least fifty times in front of me. Who knows how many times he’s said it behind closed doors.”

“You’re right. What am I thinking? I’m getting married to the greatest man in the world. Life is freaking swell.” Over the past few years, I’ve come to learn that Violet’s extremely religious Baptist parents raised her not to swear. The worst curse word I’ve heard her utter is darn.

“Couldn’t happen to a better couple. I’m so happy for you two, I could burst,” I tell Violet genuinely. “Then we’ll be more than best friends, we’ll be related.”

Violet beams at me. “Can I call you cuz? I think that’s a cute way to refer to a cousin.”

“You’re a dork.”

“A dork you’re about to be related to!” Her pleased expression settles into a more concerned one. “Any word from Zoe or Blake?”

A sour feeling settles into my stomach. Failure is something that, up until now, I’ve had the fortune of not experiencing. It’s almost December, three months since Clinton Smith marched into Clarkes Elementary with a gun and Zoe convinced him to turn himself in. The morning after Clinton stalked into the school and pointed a gun at Zoe, she painstakingly shared the details with Blake and me. The suicidal young man wanted to hurt the students and then himself. Zoe, our beloved Zoe, stopped him by talking him down.

It was a miracle that she wasn’t hurt. Physically, at least.

“No better than the last time you asked.” I grimace and set the fork down. Suddenly, my appetite is gone. “Whenever I visit her at Blake’s, she sends me away. He thinks that maybe she’s ashamed of herself, but what is there to be ashamed of? I’m supposed to be her best friend and I want to support her through this.”

“Don’t blame yourself. I can see it in your eyes that you do.” Violet shoots me a pointed look, reading my mind as usual. “Zoe needs time to get herself together and if the girl wants to do it alone, you have to let her do it alone. She’ll be back when she’s ready.”

With a defeated sigh, I press my back into my chair. “If I give up on her, I’ll fail her.” That’s the bottom line. Zoe finally relented to see a therapist a few weeks back, according to Blake, and yet she continues to refuse to see me.

“How is her recovery a reflection on you?” Violet scoffs. “Unsolicited opinion alert: seems like whatever happened at Clarkes dredged up underlying issues for Zoe. There’s nothing you can do –”

“Except keep trying,” I interrupt.

Violet nods thoughtfully. “Fair enough. Don’t take me the wrong way; I want Zoe to be back to her old self, too. But I hate seeing you in pain. Perhaps it’s time to give her the space that she clearly wants.”

I frown at the thought. Deep down, I know Violet has a point. Zoe’s recovery is not under my control, and at some juncture, I need to respect her wishes and stop dropping by unannounced. At least, my visits are unannounced to her. When I offered to manage Zoe’s move out of her apartment and back into Blake’s home, we exchanged phone numbers. Now, I text him before I visit Zoe, though we haven’t spent much time together. Ever since that day in Zoe’s room, he’s been short with me, avoiding any possibility of us being alone. I haven’t had much time to dwell on his unfriendly behavior because I’ve been too busy worrying about his sister. I guess that’s what he has been doing, too, by taking a short leave of absence from work and interviewing dozens of therapists until he found one who he felt was just right.

“One more shot,” I tell Violet. “I’m going Friday after work and if she wants me to stop trying… I will take a break for a little while.”

“Whatever you think is best,” she says with an understanding smile. In the past three months, Violet hasn’t cast judgment on Zoe. I know that she’s just watching out for me and I appreciate her protectiveness.

“Excuse me, ladies. Stella, do you have a moment for a meeting?” Both of our eyes swing to where Katya stands above the table we’re sitting at in the lunchroom. She got into town a few days ago, and since then, my boss Colin has been on high alert. Instead of coming to work late and leaving early as he usually does, he’s on time and his shirt is tucked in for the most part.

“Yes, of course.” I push my seat backward and move to toss the uneaten bits of my lunch. Then I follow her through the employee lounge and into a small conference room. We sit across from each other, Katya the presence of sophisticated Speck royalty, and me, a serf looking to earn a spot with the nobility.

“What are your career plans, Stella?”

I’m flabbergasted. This was the very topic that I discussed with Zoe right before the Clarkes incident, but I let it fall to the wayside while I tried to be there for her. Now, I can hardly remember the plan I had formulated. “I love working at Speck,” I start out honestly. “I believe in our product and the executive team’s vision for the company. Ultimately, I want more responsibility in the account management team. I’m ready for bigger clients and providing more value to the company.”

With all that attention focused on Zoe, my career goals fell aside. Now I can see what Violet meant by my actions only hurting myself. I’ve always been career-minded. Katya has heard what’s important to me; that’s all I can do.

The first pleased expression that I’ve ever seen her share flashes across her face. “Wonderful. I agree with you that it’s time to expand your responsibilities at Speck. You have an excellent reputation here.”

Pleasure spreads across my chest and I can’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

“With that in mind, you should know that Colin will no longer be working at Speck.”

Internally, my jaw hits the floor and eyes bug out of my head.
Come again?
Colin’s been here since the company opened its Chicago office. His work ethic has slipped significantly in the past year, but I figured that a sense of loyalty would prevent him from being fired.

“Gone?” I repeat stupidly.

She nods once in a short affirmative. “Don’t think about it. You know as well as I do that he’s lost his motivation for Speck.”
That’s putting it mildly.
“As you know, he was managing the rollout one of our biggest clients, Chicago Center.”